


The Alan™

by AceEmerson



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Richie being an idiot, angerie boie eddie, based on the SNL sketch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceEmerson/pseuds/AceEmerson
Summary: Eddie has a shitty fucking day and Richie just wants to cheer him up with the future of casual entertainment.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	The Alan™

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandon/gifts).



> This is my first ever Reddie fic and I wrote it for my girlfriend
> 
> Based on this SNL sketch of Bill Hader being an adorable loser:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xplEPT5I39E

Eddie is in a god awful mood when Richie finally gets home. He’s standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his biceps as he scrubs from his hands all the way up to his elbows. His hands feel raw with the aggressive scrubbing they’ve been going through, and his throat feels rough with the irritation and frustration that has been prickling behind his eyes for what feels like hours. Two showers, three changes of clothes, and who knows how many hand washes, and he still feels dirty. Still feels bacteria and infection on every inch of his skin. E coli, MRSA, hepatitis, strep, staph, shigella, god he can feel it all over him. All because their stupid fucking toilet had to break and his trashmouth boyfriend had to be off meeting with his jerkoff asshole manager, leaving Eddie to have to clean up the mess of their bathroom by himself. He had tried to talk himself up, tried to imagine Richie there to tell him all the reasons why it’s not that bad, why he’s perfectly safe, but it had still led him into a near-panic attack. So yeah, he’s in a terrible fucking mood when Richie walks in the door, and he thinks he’s entitled to be a bitch at least for a little while.

“You okay, Eds?” comes a voice from over Eddie’s shoulder, hesitant and searching.

Eddie doesn’t even look towards where he knows Richie is watching him with judging eyes as he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs at his hands.

“No I’m not fucking okay. Our god damn toilet broke, and my idiot boyfriend wasn’t around to be useful, not that he ever fucking is, so I had to clean it MYSELF,” Eddie fumes, a stray karate-chop motion spraying wet soapy water all over the counter, “and now there’s bacteria and germs all over me, and I’m gonna get sick and I’m never going to forgive you for the rest of my life, Rich, I swear to god. I’m fucking filthy right now.”

There’s a pause where Richie doesn’t make a sound, but then Eddie hears movement and a moment later Richie is right there behind him. A hand on his arm making him stop his frantic scrubbing, a kiss to his shoulder, and the kitchen faucet being turned off, cutting off the stream of near-scalding water over Eddie’s hands. He furrows his brow, about to protest, but then Richie is opening his mouth and spewing trash from it. As always.

“Not as filthy as your mom last night,” Richie says, a shit eating grin in his voice, and Eddie has half a mind to punch the guy in his stupid fucking face.

He shoves back from the counter, pushing Richie away aggressively as he reaches for a paper towel to dry his hands. He’s fuming and angry, mouth running away in a tirade that his mind can’t even keep up with. About how much of an asshole Richie is, and about how much Eddie hates him. About how unfunny he is, and how filthy his hands and his mouth probably are. Does he even know how much bacteria live on pretty much every surface of his car? Or how many diseases you can even catch just from their front door? And don’t even get him started on the elevator up here!

Eddie talks a mile a minute, and Richie just watches him with this adoring puppy dog look that only makes the man talk faster and louder. Eventually, Eddie runs himself ragged and turns on his heel, retreating into the living room to catch his breath and maybe try to forget about the millions of diseases crawling up every inch of his skin. He throws himself down onto the couch in a huff, practically vibrating with anxious energy and restlessness.

Richie follows his path, only a moment behind, and stands directly between Eddie and the TV. Eddie glares up at his stupid asshole STUPID boyfriend, gearing up to go on another rant if he must.

“You know what you need?” Richie asks with a mischievous smirk that means he’s up to no good.

“A better boyfriend?” Eddie responds with a scowl and a raised eyebrow.

The tall trashmouthed idiot doesn’t even react to the comment, an annoying smile still on his lips. He takes his phone out of his pocket and fiddles with it as Eddie just watches on in confusion. When Richie looks back over at him, it’s with a glint of something in his eyes.

“You need to relax with the future of casual entertainment,” Richie says with a faux-infomercial voice, “the Alan!”

“No I don’t, shut up,” Eddie responds, but his qualms are entirely ignored as Richie presses play on his phone and music floods the room, “turn that off. I’m serious Richard!”

Richie just ignores him, and instead starts dancing along with the strange semi-techno music. It’s not quite dancing, more like swaying his hips while he gives repeated over-dramatic shrugs and eye rolls. It’s supposed to make Eddie laugh, but it just makes him mad.

“Stop it, I’m mad at you,” he yells, glaring as he’s completely ignored by the idiot dancing in front of him, “stop this ISN’T FUNNY, STOP!”

There’s a slight pause in Richie’s dance, but instead of stopping the guy just switches up his dance, throwing some thumbs up signs into it. He looks ridiculous, swaying back and forth to the dumb music as his little in-beat thumbs ups dissolve into half shrugs. It’s weird and kind of off beat and it’s NOT. FUNNY.

“Richie I’m not in the MOOD,” Eddie says with a firm karate chop to the air, “you’re being a jerk right now!”

Again, the dance changes, and this time Richie sways his whole body back and forth while doubling down on the facial expressions. He rolls his eyes and pouts his lips. He crinkles his nose and shakes his head. He closes one eye and gives a little smirk. He’s dumb and goofy and it’s still not funny. It’s not. It’s really not. Because Eddie is mad at him.

“Stop, it’s not funny,” Eddie protests but it sounds weak even to his own ears, losing its bite with the way he’s trying to hold down any amusement he gets from this.

Richie turns away, putting his back to him, but it’s only a moment and a half a beat of the song before the guy is turning to look over his shoulder and give a wiggle of his eyebrows. Eddie bites back a laugh, barely holding on to his anger as Richie turns away, only to turn right back again with an even more ridiculously exaggerated eyebrow waggle. The snort of laughter that comes out of Eddie is beyond his control. He’s only human. On the next turn, Richies gives him a head nod that has him choking back another laugh at his idiot of a boyfriend.

Richie’s hands go up in the air above him as he turns back, and Eddie has no control over the giggle that tumbles from him when the guy goes back to swaying his hips, throwing his head from side to side while keeping up those absurd facial expressions. Eddie throws a hand over his mouth but it’s too late. Richie’s got him, and they both know it.

Eddie’s already a giggling mess when Richie changes his moves again. This time, he’s shaking his index finger back and forth, lips in a pout as he maintains eye contact. He looks like such a goof, and Eddie is a goner. The guy laughs and laughs, side hurting with the force of it as he watches his boyfriend make a fool of himself just to cheer him up.

Richie finally breaks out of character with a wide smile, closing the gap between him and the couch to approach the hysteric Eddie. He’s still laughing when Richie leans over the couch to press their lips together, but Eddie doesn’t mind. He just reaches up to hold the taller man’s face close and kisses back while the giggles tumble past his lips, feeling a whole lot lighter than he had before Richie came home.

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbles, voice warm and fond against Richie’s lips when he finally catches his breath, the dumb music still filling the air around him.

“I love you too, Eds,” Richie responds, gentle and sweet and kisses him again.


End file.
